


sweet salads and ballads

by TheSwindler



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Bromance, Connor is a good bro, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gavin Reed Plays Guitar, Gavin Reed Redemption, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Pre-Slash, Protective Hank Anderson, RK900 Writes Poetry, RK900 has troubles speaking up, Sumo is a good boi, and yet another of, gavin is gay, i cant believe that tag became popular w o w, i gave android depression, i made that ok, im sorry for everyone involved, like hella gay, lmao sorry, no beta we die like men, rk900 is not bad y'all just mean, soft, they have two dogs fight me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-06-28 06:05:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15701352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSwindler/pseuds/TheSwindler
Summary: He took another glance at the standing detective. A frown marring his worn face, the slither of scar across his nose, and hair tousled straight from bed, sticking out in many directions from the lack of care.Hugo casted his eyes away, surpressing down the heat from his flustered processors. Inwardly, he sent a message to Connor to stop playing 'Love Me Like A Love Song' in their shared mind link; it was starting to get on his nerves real bad.-Inwhich The Author tries to write sappy romance. Keyword on 'try'.Warning : I'm vv poetic in this I don't even know anymore this is probably ooc a u g h I'm sorry





	1. under a canopy of stars

**Author's Note:**

> guess who's back with a new fic bitch
> 
> i wrote this at like 2 a.m. and i got no beta reader so yea warning :
> 
> ooc, too much poetry, sudden an g s t, cripplinggaydepression,
> 
> and doggos,,,,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i named rk900 'hugo' bcs reasons. also, they have two dogs; sumo and snooze.
> 
> there are also differences that i will elaborate the backstory more later, but for now, enjoy!

Hank was drunk again.

It had only took Hugo two weeks to fully conclude that, _yes_ , Lieutenant Hank Anderson, was an alcoholic man. Despite everything and all the efforts he had try to ban himself.

Iddly, Hugo still wondered how Hank managed to find the bottles he --as per Connor's order-- had buried at the backyard. He was sure he left no signs nor marks they were even there. Hank didn't even know where Connor told him to hide it. _Unless_ , he missed something..

The LED ring attached on the side of his head whirred into a yellow hue. Hugo stiffened his jaw, trying to level his face as neutral as possible even as his head screamed at him. Yelling at all the miscalculations.. the faults in his code-

No. Stop.

It was not a fault.

He was not a failure.

He was a deviant.

 _Free_.

Free.. free....

Connor came in when Hank hurled his stomach contents onto the floor. Hugo knelt nearby, ignoring his screaming head, the words ' _FAILURE_ ' stretched upon his visuals as he struggled to understand. To know what he had to do other than simply sitting beside Hank, holding a glass of water for the man.

His breath hitched. He was sure his expressions twitched and his eyebrows creased more times than he was supposed to. The hand holding the glass of water shuddered, slightly, almost barely, yet nothing that his predecessor could not caught.

Hugo did not know whether he should be grateful of it, or not.

" _Lieutenant_ ," Connor whispered, so quiet and gentle, as he leant down to pick up the older man with ease.

Hank lolled to the side, eyes still opened, yet gazed and droopy. He didn't protest, he barely fought back when Connor slung his hand across his shoulder as to get a better hold. That was not a good sign.

"I'm.. sorry," Hugo muttered, gazing downwards with the glass of water still in hand. He was utterly lost, and it sickened him.

He was supposed to do something. Anything. Why couldn't he?

Why.. _why_?

"You should take Sumo and Snooze out, get them fresh air, okay?" Connor said, louder this time for Hugo to hear --as he had headed for the bathroom with Hank in his arms--.

Take the dogs for a walk.. Yeah. Yeah, he could do that. Hugo thought, looking at the door as he set down the glass of water on the table. His internal clock read 02:19 A.M. But from what he had learned from living with Connor, his predecessor, and Hank for the past few weeks had taught him better; there are no such things as an inappropriate time to take the dogs out for a walk.

Hugo knew the other reason Connor wanted him to leave, was that so Snooze wouldn't get her nightmares triggered --she had once been living with an abuser, and seeing Hank in a state of not-sober would likely gave her flashbacks--. That, and because he knew..

He knew Hugo didn't like being unuseful.

It wasn't a bad thing, really. It was simply that Hank could not be handled by more than one people if he was drunk. It made him more jittery, and aggressive. And the least thing both androids wanted was for the man to went AWOL and hurt himself. Neither wanted to take the risk. Which then would leave Hugo on his own; it was better that way since he had no experience of handling a drunk man, unlike Connor.

So Hugo left the shared house, two massive dogs in leashes; one Saint Bernard and the other an Alaskan Malamute, as he double-checked to make sure his and Connor's mind link was strongly connected --just incase--, donned in a grey colored loose sweater and dark jacket. The keys jiggled lightly from the pockets of his trainers as he walked down the streets.

Above him, the night sky was veiled with a sheet of smokes and fog. Only the brightest stars could be seen through the clouds, shining like ephemeral diamonds in a fabric of void, taking the city of Detroit in a lulling embrace for the restless souls.

The streets were silent. Hugo's mind was but a haze as he went into the park nearby. It was quiet, and almost eerie had he been more sensitive to human emotions. The slides were unoccupied, and the swings' chains rattled lightly as the wind tugged on them, as if calling urging them to move and play.

Hugo knelt down on the grass, one hand brushing through Snooze's soft --and incredibly fluffy, he noted with a swirl of bright blue LED as if pleasant-- fur as he sighed. Exhaling a faux breath. Then he reached out for Sumo and, too, patted his head. Snooze snuggled up against his lap as he did so.

Thoughts ran through his head. Multiple codings, programs, reruns, and reconstructed scenes of datas of all the things he could've done if only he'd listen. If only he'd follow his instructions. Hugo knew them well enough, they had inhabited his processors since the day he broke through the walls of his instructions. A sorts of mutation of codes, a part of his instructions and firewall that was displeased with his choice for freedom.

He surpressed them down with a trained ease. Instead, he scoured through his files, running a momentary refresh during it as his LED swirled between blue and yellow. When he found what he had been looking for, a ghost of smile painted on his lips. Hugo brought it up, and settled his thoughts into a delighful hum.

It was a collection of poetries. One that he proudly had written, but never share. Except for Connor. Few bits, here and there. Nothing too personal.

The small vertical line blipped right where he had last ended his sentence. Hugo didn't realize he had coddled Snooze in his arms when he began to write, lost in his own head and fantasies. His head half-buried in her long white fur, fingers tangled, and eyes half closed. Pale irises like a cutting edge aquamarines, or the blue sky in midst of rainy season.

He wrote about the jets soaring the skies during a war. Of floral scented cemeteries and the people in it. The cold hands with bandaids on their fingers instead of diamond rings. A lover that never returned home. A knife in the kitchen cupboard and under the pillow of a child. A banshee who cried for those she had murdered. The tears of a mermaid dying, yet out of joy.

Sumo had flopped down behind him, fashioning a convenient 'couch' as Hugo barely caught up with reality. Words swimming in his head, his brows furrowed as he felt he didn't type out his thoughts faster enough. More. Be better. It was unfortunate that his built in keys could not keep up with his incredibly fast processors running at full speed.

Androids were not supposed to daydream. Or had fantasies. It went against all the logics, algorithms, and the codings they were programmed into. And in deviants.. even in deviants, it was always odd of how their numberings came together and made them... _alive_.

Hugo, as a deviant himself, found that he utterly could not answer the question he himself had asked. He decided it was not worth thinking, and had pushed it aside with those insistent 'voices' of his mind that kept flashing ' _ERROR_ ' and ' _FAILURE_ ' signs at any given chance.

He was cut off when Snooze gave him a kiss. A lick to his nose, before nuzzling to his neck, letting out a soft whine. Hugo tossed away his file to the back of his mind, blinking as he ran his fingers through the long fur once more. This time slower, as if in comfort.

Snooze whined once more, then she licked his face again before going off from his lap. Hugo watched as she went forward, nudging at the blue leash connected to the black collar around her neck. Expecting something. Hugo glanced down at Sumo, whom stared back at if as if saying ' _Well? What are you waiting for_?'.

Without another word Hugo stood up, brushing the leaves off from his oants for a good measure, then tugged on the dogs' leashes gently in sign. The two giant canines followed him, brushing up against his legs every now and then as he walked out from the park. The night was still and silent.

Had only they gazed up, perhaps they would notice how the moon had winked at them, for the fate that would soon entwine the android. A path he would need to carve on his own, with red threads and a rusted spoon and no shovels. A path that would take him somewhere; far, far away. Very soon.


	2. avocado? i'm hungry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hugo watches vines
> 
> blame hank

Hugo blinked, opening his eyes when a warm hand fell upon his shoulders. He gazed up at Hank, the old man clad in loose sweaters with hazy eyes as he muttered something along the lines of ' _connor said wake up_ ' and ' _need aspirin_ '. He yawned, scratching his beard, raising an eyebrow towards Hugo in a silent, ' _well?_ '

Hugo rose up, his frame slightly stalling in reminiscent of his stasis. He swung one leg over the bed, pausing for a moment just so he could avoid the still sleeping dogs laying beside him. For a moment, datas streamed through his head loosely like a river in spring. Of current news and minor updates, tiny littering series of numbers, untill-

A flash of red. Hugo pushed it aside far into the back of his mind.

"Good morning, Hank. Hugo." Connor smiled once the android and the old human walked into the kitchen together. He stood beside the coffee machine with a mug that had ' _#1 Dad_ ' written on it in black capitals. Though, the 'Dad' was crossed out with a red marker, and scribbled underneath was the word ' _Asshole_ '.

Hank's favorite mug. The pop-up analysis at the corner of Hugo's eye told him that Connor was making capuccino.

Hugo blinked. He sent a ' _Good Morning_ ' through their shared mind link, stuttering when he forgot to speak aloud. Yet Connor smiled, brushing it off and said that they would have a lot of time later to teach Hugo to be more vocal, which the latter had nodded thankfully. Hank grumbled a ' _Morning_ ,' before pulling out a seat and sat down. He then slumped down on the table, head placed ontop of his hands as he let out a long groan.

**[ Objective : Find Aspirin for Hank ]**

He scourged around in the cabinets, setting aside the miscellanous bowls and plates along with few glasses. Dusts and cobwebs filled the corners, and Hugo made a quick note to clean them later as he pushed a stack of plates to the left. His eyes landed on the small pill container sitting at the far back.

**[ Objective Completed ]**

"Would you like to get groceries while Hank and I work at the precinct, Hugo?" Connor said, setting the coffee filled mug on the table before gently shaking the old man awake. Hank's head shot up, his eyes blinked few times before he took the mug and drank it.

"Oo-.. _kay_...," Hugo mumbled, struggling to form words that was not in his programs to reply.

It was strange, to speak of something else other than the interrogation and the investigation protocols planted into the base of his program. Hugo's breath hitched, waiting for the moment when a code would ensnare his neck and stopped him speaking, filling his throat with vines that stole his breath away.

It never came. Hugo sighed, once again pushing away the flashing red notification from his mind.

"I-.. I.. I think I ca- _can_.. go.. just.. ju- just need t- the.. lists."

Connor smiled. It was so big and bright, it oddly reminded Hugo of the beaming sun. Just, less annoying heat, and more happiness.

"Great! I'll send one right away."  
Hugo nodded. Too vigorously, perhaps. He was still struggling to loosen the limits he spontaneously made upon his attitudes and often not seemingly became too 'eager' in doing so.

Somewhere, in the back of his head, Hugo still felt as if he was watched. That red threads still entwined him, just waiting for the puppeteer to make the move.

 _Can you slip in some champagne flavored gummy-bears? Don't tell Connor._  
Hugo glanced towards Hank, whom had downed half of his coffee and was now staring at the screen of his phone.

**[ Help Hank?**

**Yes [×] No [] ]**

Hank smirked, still not looking up from his screen as Connor went about around the stove behind him. A ghost of smile formed on Hugo's lips.

"Do you want pancakes or waffles, Hank?"

" _Toasts_." Hank pointed a finger at Hugo, who froze and went still as if he was a deer caught in headlights at a highway.

"You make 'em. Go."

The RK900 deviant android opened his mouth to protest, yet came far too late as Hank had sent him a disapproving look. The one Connor dubbed as ' _The Neutral Look of Displeasure_ '.

Hugo cowered. Like a kicked puppy. Unfortunately, Hank was only affected by Connor's puppy eyes. He was immune, sadly, at Hugo's. So now the deviant android had to cook, standing infront of the stove with a wide frying pan in one hand.

"Wh- _why_ me," Hugo sulked.

"Because you make the best toasts." Hank jabbed a finger towards the other android.

"Connor barely gives any topping other than the butter."

Said android flushed as he retaliated,  
"I just want to keep you healthy."

Hank turned back towards Hugo with a raised eyebrow.

" _See_?"

Hugo cracked a smile, the edges of his eyes wrinkled as he let out a silent chuckle. Hank beamed with pride. Connor, meanwhile, had his arms crossed infront of his chest as he frwoned.

"You are both.. _mean_."

"I- I'm not me- mean. I got dus- dust in my thro- throat." As if to make a point, Hugo coughed two times. Hank snorted.

Pulling back another smile from his lips, Hugo turned towards the stove and settled the wide pan over. Connor's retort at Hank came as a dull voice in his ears as Hugo scavanged around the many wooden cupboards and shelves. He settled for the new pack of butter, a hazelnut spread, and a jar of powdered sugar from their recent attempts of making apple taters.

He placed two slices of bread on the buttered pan before heading for the fridge. Not to soon, a cold glass of orange juice was settled on the table, just as Hugo splattered the hazel spread across the toasts and sprinkled them with sugar. Tiny white dusts fell like a ground snow, and somewhat, it reminded him of a winter wonderland.

Making toasts was.. _dull_. It was a simple continuity of moving his muscles and making sure to keep track of the toasts as to not getting them burnt. There was a comfort in the routine, but still. He was bored.

One would probably question why an advanced investigator android would have a saved program called ' _When_Bored.exe_ '. Had they met Hank, though, they would probably realize why it made sense for Hugo to have one.

A thought came into his head, forcing Hugo to pull against his sensors to stop a smile forming.

He placed the plate of toasts infront of Hank, placed the mug in the dish for a good measure, before going towards his predecessor with hands clasped behind his back.

"Connor."  
The said android looked around, and gasped in surprise when a handful of powder sugar was blown to his face.

" _Have some fairy dust, motherfucker_." The audio record from a vintage video played from Hugo's voice box, as what could be described as a 'shit-eating-grin' spread across his face like a plague. Connor made an indignant noise. Behind them, Hank slapped his hand on the table as he doubled over in silent laughter.

"God! you should've seen your face," he wheezed, tears forming in his eyes from the strain of laughing.

"That's some morning comedy gold."

In retaliation, Connor smothered Hugo's face with his sugar stained hands. The other shrieked in delight, as arms flailed and limbs tangled. On one point they stumbled, and Hank watched the androids wrestling on the floor as he chewed on his toasts slowly.

"Hank! He- help!" Hugo giggled, throwing another handful of sugar at Connor.

"Hank! Hugo's being mean!"

"You both'll have to clean the kitchen later," the man said through a mouthful of bread. He made no move to sepparate the two androids.

" _I attack_!"

" _I'm a bad bitch, you can't kill me_!" Hugo's audio processor played. Just two seconds from being toppled over once more by Connor.

Hank was still eating his toasts.

The kitchen had delved into a mess of sugar powder and tangled limbs of two wrestling androids. Short shrieks echoed along with multitudous audio from vines --the old vintage website of ' _meme_ ' videos-- courtesy of Hugo played. Sumo padded into the room, sitting beside Hank as the old man gave the massive saint bernard a scratch behind the ears. Snooze came not too long after, curling up beside his legs before drifting back into sleep.

Hugo, in a state of laughing, flopped his head ontop of his predecessor's chest. Burrowing his smile. Connor groaned as if the added weight affected him, which earned himself a good shove from Hugo.

"I ba- barely weighted m- more than you do."

"I am still a lot lighter than your added lithium ion features and build."

"Oh shut up. You _both_ barely weighted more than a table," Hank scoffed.

Hugo blinked.  
"But.. tha- that's..-" He turned towards Connor.

"That's just the average weight of a grown human, Hank," Connor finished.

"Pah!"

They both stayed silent for a while. Though, it wasn't an awkward-stranger kind, but more of a comforting-awkward-family kind of silent. A family consisted of two deviant investigator androids, an old man, and two large dogs.

"So, _uhh_.." Hugo coughed.

"Ca- can we get a- an _avocado_? I've he- heard it's he- heal- healthy for Hank."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know that gayvin still hasn't show up, but i promise you he will. eventually. have some family fluff instead whoot


	3. laundry musings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hugo gets hysteric from clothes

Flourescent white lights hung from the ceilings of the stark white room. Clean and hygiene, with the warmth in the air from the heat of the laundry machines whirring. The soap water bubbled as clothes were soaked in it, and they spun around and round like the wheels of a car speeding down the road at late night.

Hugo dumped another spoonful of fabric softener into the water. Hank liked soft clothes, that he had found out at the third day, even as the man insisted that he didn't. It seemed the man forgot that Hugo could very well see him curling up into the soft blankets he shared with Connor, piled up in their bed like a haphzard mess.

A red basket sat beside his feet, waiting to be filled with clean folded clothes, as Hugo stood still infront of the laundry machine. The bubbles lapping against the transparent circle window as they spun like a whirlpool.

He imagined an of the sorts goldfish living in such water. He knew it was impossible, and the thought went against all odds of his codes --the fifth red pop-up appearing reminded him clearly--, yet still. Perhaps, dare he say, an _evolved_ goldfish? Swimming within whirlpools, flashing their long silky tails of glimmering oranges like bustling peacocks. The thought was enthralling.

Words ran through his head as he continued on writing his collection of proses and poetries. It reserved as an outlet, he mused. As a place for his thoughts he had yet to sort out correctly, and pragmatically. Things that pried out those red warnings, the result --and caused, perhaps?-- of his hard-earned _deviancy_.

_head fogged_  
_though eyes unclear_  
_of the wind and_  
_the water_  
_the fire within the eyes_  
_of a warrior_  
_heading home from_  
_a war_

_but_ |

The sentence stopped there.

Hugo closed the file and pushed it aside once the laundry machine dinged. A clear note of a bell. He opened the circular window, the water had long gone dried out, before taking out the strewn about clothes one by one into the basket.

First came Hank's jeans. Then two large DPD hoodies, a sweater, and Hugo's sweatshirt. Came a pile of miscellanous t-shirts, three pair of shorts, and-

Hugo's fingers ran around the shirt in his hand. A black shirt with a high collar that felt all too familiar. The material was not soft like wool or cotton, but stiff from polyester. The fabric sewn tigether tightly, in an orderly fashion that no human made nor cared for. Too precise. Too formal. Iddly, he remembered stashing his standard wear white jacket coat somewhere in Hank's closet, buried deep in the pile of clothes. He never did remembered what happened to his shirt.

Which left a single question unanswered floating above his head, methaporically.

**[ Connecting _ Connor.RK800_#313-248-317-51]**

**[ Waiting for confirmation.. ]**

**[ Connected ]**

_What is it, Hugo? Are you alright? What happened?_

_It was nothing._ Hugo sent. _I merely want to ask you something._

_Yes?_

_Are you the one who found my standard CyberLife shirt and placed it in the laundry basket?_

_No._  
Hugo thought he could hear his predecessor frowning.

_No. Infact, that reminds me that I don't quite recall what happened to your shirt. Except your jacket; it's in Hank's closet._

_I know that one._

_Well then there's that. You've found your shirt?_

Hugo fingered the fabric in his hands. A flash of memory appeared along with another red sign. He shoved it away roughly.

_Yes. Yes, I have._

He heard Connor hummed.  
_That is... good to hear. Is there anything else you want to talk about?_

 _I don't believe there is._ Hugo placed the shirt in the basket, along with the pile of the freshly cleaned casual clothes.

_Thank you, Connor._

_Anytime, Hugo._ And the link went off. Hugo sighed, his LED ring gradually turning from yellow to blue as he picked up the red basket. Heading for the exit.

He pushed the glass door, glancing back to watch another laundry machine whirring, spinning soap water and clothes. The thought of evolved goldfish came into his mind once more, rainbow scaled and sleek from all the soap suds, before he left the laundry shop. The red basket in his hand somehow felt heavier than ever.

-

There was something scary, somehow, to Hugo, upon watching his reflection in the mirror.

A tall and proud android, standing with a straight back and squared shoulders. The blue triangle of CyberLife, the symbol of his serial, gleamed under the flourescent bathroom lights. His hair brushed back, and shirt buttoned up to the very top. The outer coat, white, stark bright and pristine as ever, since he had barely worn them for more than fourty-six hours since he woke up. Nothing seemed out of place, no odds in the reflection of the mirror. An image of stillness and calculated perfection; a _machine_.

Pale eyes staring back at him. Glowing like iridescent fairy wings under the lights. A touch of frost in summer, cold and lifeless. Dead, even. Hugo iddly raised his hand, fingers grazing against his cheeks softly. The circular ring embedded upon his forehead swirled into a striking yellow.

He was not dull to the whispers of his mind. Iddly, deep down he knew he still wanted it. The sense of purpose, of belonging, of having objectives and knowing exactly what he had to do. Doing exactly what he was made for.

He traded it all for free will. A loose concept he could barely grasp within his hands. Like a bumbling child, reduced from efficiency and the speeding time. Something, a slithering voice, told him in the back of his mind of how much of a fool he was.

Hugo sighed out a faux breath. The basket of laundry sat still beside him on the faucet, red as was the spinning LED on his head.

-

"It looked _remarkably_ well on you," Connor said, patting at his shoulders as he chased the fictious dirt away.

Hugo cocked his head, rolling his shoulders just slightly in a manner of shrugging.

' _It was made for me._ ' He sent the message through their link. Connor blinked, his LED ring circled in yellow before it returned back to blue, a small smile on his face.

"I know. It still looked well on you."  
Hugo looked down.

' _I'm sorry. I know we had agreed upon not using our mind links often, but.. I am uncomfortable with speaking... for now._ '

"What bothers you?" Connor softly asked, looking into his eyes with those dark ones. Hugo took a shaky artificial breath, composing himself not to simply break down from the mere presence of having someone watching over him.

He wanted to say envy. Jealousy that burnt him deep. Over Connor, over Jericho, and other deviants that had now run freely. Smiling so bright, tasting the freedom they craved and all the new things they could try. Oblivious to the war of minds he faced, alone and utterly inescapable.

Anger, upset, and sadness filled the hollow crevices of his machine. Rose thorns buried themselves deep into his wires, limiting him, chaining him down though he was offered with the wide space infront of him. A false freedom. As if he was drowning, yet everyone else had been breathing just fine around him.

Yet he bit his tongue back. Ugly bile choking his throat, stealing away his unnecessary need of breathing, as Hugo spoke in answer.

' _The remains of my firewall_.' His LED had turn red, a scarlet glow under the dull lights of the bedroom.

' _They are still there. Nagging me, telling me things-.._ '

"There, there." Connor had took him into his arms. Wrapped around his taller, yet no less different size, figure. A steely embrace that promised protection, a sense of security that made Hugo's breath hitched.

He needed it. He needed the sense of security so bad he almost felt as if he could choke upon it. The feeling of leaning against someone else, not to be alone and walked down a lonely path in the dark. Hugo craved it so, so, _so_ much.

So he hugged back. Arms slithering around his predecessor as he hid his face into the crook of his shoulders like a scared child. Thousands of words and numbers ran through his mind, flashing reds, warnings, tell-tale signs that made his stomach churn in f-.. fe-...

.. _fear_.

"S- so, _oh_ , _somebody_ ," Hugo croaked out, a soft voice, barely a whisper, containing melodious notes that were whisked away by the wind as soon as they were uttered.

"La- _lay_ me d- down.., one last time...

" _One last time_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> still no gayvin. whoops. i swear guys, the lil' shit will pop his head around soon enough, cross my heart.
> 
> i'm torn between laughing or crying writing hugo like this because- /wheeze/
> 
> enjoy!


	4. kindergarten blues of physics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hugo applies for the precint
> 
> it didn't really end well

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay okay i'm so sorry for the lack of update i'm trying i swear, but school is just not working out with me. i'm sorry, i promise i'll update faster if my schedules allow it.
> 
> without further ado, enjoy!

"You really wanna do this?"

Hank's voice sliced through the reverie. Hugo blinked, his mind came into a steeling halt as his knees stopped bucking. Fingers frozen in place, the coin he had borrowed from Connor fell into his left palm.

The man was looking at him. With an uncertainity, and concern, though he schooled it as best as he could into a stern look. Connor on the other hand, had a face blank as was a canvas. Yet his glowing yellow LED gave away what state he was in.

Hugo stared at his hands, the sleeves of his white coat, then out from the car's window. A sheet of white blanketed the streets, snow fell gently, with frost nipping against the glass. The tall towering building stood infront of them, grey and monochrome, with big, block words spelling out a sentence;

' _Detroit Police Department_ '

He sighed. No, truthfully, he hadn't been so sure over what he wanted to do. Laundry nights, grocery runs, to making toasts for Hank. Those were not within his programs, his base, and each day as he did so, the warnings mounted at the back of his mind. A reminder of what he was.

Exhausted. Hugo had simply wanted it all to.. stop. For a moment. To settle back to what he had been built for, and loose himself in the sea of codes as he ran on autodrive. Tempting, really.

But there it was, a part of him that whispered how selfish he was. Once again, Hugo's faith wavered.

_What did he want?_

"Hey." Hank snapped his fingers. Hugo gazed up at him, blinking slowly, uncertain with himself.

"Stay with me, kiddo."

"But I am with you."

"It's a paraphrase," Connor told him. Hugo nodded, filing the dialogue under the folder ' _Idioms_ ' as Hank hufted out a breath.

"Now that we got that out of the way." Hank pulled on the door handle before swinging it open. He stepped out, breaths coming out in tiny silvery clouds as he shivered lightly in the chilly wind. He didn't close the door, but raised a brow at Hugo when he saw the two androids staring at him.

"You're coming or what? I'm freezing here."

Connor took it as his cue and went out first. He flashed a tiny smile at Hugo before he closed his door. It did nothing to ease the fact that his programming went wild, and that his mind continously made preconstructs if how everything was going to lay out, but Hugo appreciated the shared sentiment. With another pull of a faux breath he never needed, Hugo opened the door and stepped out. His thoughts came into a momentary halt.

He should probably expected cold. But he didn't. All he had was the numbers 10°C as a pop-up in the back of his mind. The sheet of snow made soft crunches as he stepped upon it, sleek black leather shoes stained by the cold and flakes of winter.

Connor sent him another small smile as they all went inside the precinct. Immediately, the temperature score went up to 38°C. Hank visibly shuddered with relief, cheeks flushed from the sudden warmth.

Tinted glass doors and windows were placed all over the bulding, some in exchange of walls. An act of transparency, supposedly, to perhaps appeal better to the public in words of ' _keeping no secrets_ ' between eachother. Though some were purely decorations, little few of them were not bulletproof. Potted plants, actual potted plants, placed at the corners, ranging from rubber plants to red edged dracaenas. The floor was pristine marble, and the lights above were considerably not dim, but definitely less bright than the flourescent ones Hugo was used to in the laundry room.

Something plummeted within his chasis once Hugo saw the office, and with a dawning truth, realized he would be working there. A place full of humans and androids alike, scattered about in a mass and flurry of work. He would be working, with them, in the precinct, quite possibly not accompanied with Hank nor Connor. He would be standing at the side lines, perhaps never knowing what he had to do, and eyes would stare to scorn him of his existence.

Part of his programs suddenly shut down, and Hugo felt the sudden urge to run back home and cuddle Snooze in the couch, never to leave ever again.

As they walked, Hugo made a huge effort not to simply bolt out of the building. He couldn't hold back his mind however, thus his thoughts were littered with thousands of preconstructions to escape the precinct under various situations. The window just twelve feet from his left was an open invitation. And temptation. The emergency stairs too. He could cause chaos, steal a gun one of the unsuspecting officers were carrying about carelesly and started shooting the whole office dead. Nothing was stopping him, and the reality of the never-will existing walls in his mind scared him.

Connor nudged his arm, then made a swift, discreet motion to tap at his own LED ring. A warning.

Hugo shoved all the thoughts he had, the doubts running inside, as he stilled his mind to go blank canvas. None had seen his LED whirring abruptly from alarming red to cool blue.

Inside an office with glass walls they entered. A man sat behind the lone desk, cluttered with various papers and an empty mug of the substance coffee with just a trail of vodka. He had dark skin, plump cheeks, and an ever-permanent scowl upon his already frowning face. Shirts tucked yet unbuttoned, with a tie haphazardly done, yet not as worse as was Hank's --if he ever wore one--.

Feed went through his head regarding the papers upon the desk. Case files, few officer's work files, recent news' clips, and- _oh_.

Hugo skimmed through his series' identification files. He spotted Connor's prototype files, the RK200s, Markus' factory line --but not of the Jericho leader's modifications solely made by Kamski--, and _himself_.

His was the most recent to be opened, obviously. It contained the lists of experiments and reruns done. The references they constantly made to his predecessor, Connor, and various codes of programming updates. They placed an A.I within him, once, but took it out at the same date he was waken up. There was his serial number, wire specifications, and the components he had along with their compositions.

Noted along the line, was that he was the only android to had his own audio box's wires specifications, and a very specific, original, and incredibly complicated set of body frame components. One that enabled a skill Hugo was not quite fond of.

Connor nudged his arm again. Hugo straightened his back and looked up, a flash of regret hit him once he realized he was now facing directly at Captain Fowler.

He had a face that Hugo could describe as anything but friendly.

He didn't know what happened, but suddenly, suddenly, he felt his artificial brain short-circuited. And, shut down. A jolt filled his being, invisible to the naked eye. His audio crackled, fizzled, and a lump formed heavy inside his throat. All Hugo could done was to stare. Pair of eyes that seemed to speak on their own, stripping his cover, analyzing in a way that felt much more deep than a simple scan.

There was it again. The flashing of red. Simple words, simple commands, yet struck within him deep.

**[ Run a diagnostic test?**

**Yes [×] No [] ]**

**[ Running diagnostics.. ]**

**[ ERROR ]**

**[ AUTOMATIC SYSTEM REBOOT-**

**Yes [] No [×] ]**

**[ No [×] ]**

**[ No [×] ]**

Oh no, _no, no, please no._

Please.

_CONNORCONNORCONNORCONNORCONNORCONNOR-_

_I am here. I am here, Hugo, stay with me, please._

_HELP_

_ME_

_I AM_

_SCA-_

Hugo flinched, pale eyes opening. He met the Captain Fowler's eyes and held his gaze. Part of his artificial brain seemed so stop working.

His fingers trembled behind his back. Connor did not miss it.

Captain Fowler coughed,  
"So, _RK900_?"

Hugo wanted to speak. To say something, just a short clipped answer. A simple three letter word; 'yes'. But then there was that lump in his throat, as if his voice box had fizzled out into static. It was nauseating, seemed almost too fictious.

Instead, he nodded. Not a word uttered from his lips.

Connor's LED swirled yellow.

"You got a name? I'm sure we can't call you around RK900, right? Quite mouthful I'd say."

_Hugo?_

_Connor. Please._

"He does," Connor replied for him, stepping forward without a single glance towards Hugo. He made a quick, subtle gesture at the look Hank gave them with his hand that meant, ' _wait_ '.

"His name is Hugo."

Captain Fowler's eyebrow rose high on his forehead. The chair creaked under his weight as he leaned forward onto the desk, hands clasped together.

"He can't speak," Connor continued.

"His audio box is fried."

"You've read about his condition being a one-of-a-kind prototype, Fowler. There are no spare parts left, give him some space," Hank spoke up, following on Connor's lead as he crossed his arms. Standing with an air of nonchalance.

Captain Fowler's eyebrow still hadn't descended.

"If you forget, Anderson, I can't exactly let in a disabled person--both androids or humans--. We can't cope up with the larger risks they will take on field missions."

" _Captain Fowler_ ," Connor began. His voice was passive, and though his face was a void of emotions, a light gleamed in his dark eyes of mischief. Hugo heard Hank swore softly under his breath--though fondly.

"I am sure you have known that Hugo is a state-of-the-art prototype modeled right after my series. As his predecessor, I must noted that he is far more faster, stronger, and far more resilient than I am."

Hugo did not like how his brother was speaking as if self-deprecating himself. _He was more friendly_ , Hugo wanted to say. More thoughtful, more kept, and a lot more helpful. By anything really, he was _nothing_ against Connor.

Still, he kept silent.

"I am sure a simple matter of ' _disability_ ' such as having no voice can be amended with a choice of audio recorders for urgent matters, and a set of hand signs, or simply a hologram of texts for other occasions." Connor seemed really keen upon it. Both Hank and Hugo knew, once Connor set his mind upon it; he'd accomplish his mission no matter what.

"It would be a shame to loose an asset like him." A swirl of bright yellow LED, like sunflowers in a large field of grass.

"I urge you to think about it further, Captain Fowler."

"Christ, Connor. I know you are persistent, but this is a whole new level," Captain Fowler said, rubbing the side of his temples with his fingers. Hugo remembered how Hank mentioned it once that it was an act of placebo comfort for an equally nonexistent headache.

He found it... peculiar.

"Let's do this way then. I'll let Hugo in, but only as an _intern_. He's not allowed out in fields yet." At the sight of Connor opening his mouth again, Captain Fowler rose his palm quickly.

"Enough. I know what I'm doing. Since the act of all the ' _living sentients_ ' thing going on, we have to make sure androids and humans are treated equal. I'm not gonna let Hugo just pass like that just because it's his field of expert, got it?"

"He's actually built for it-"

"For Pete's sake, Connor. Is it good enough for you yet, Hugo?" Hank turned towards Hugo, raising an eyebrow in question.

Hugo nodded. His hands trembled once more.

"Then that's enough. Thanks, Fowler. Have a great day, _cheers_." With that, Hank pulled the adamant Connor out by his arm, while Hugo followed close behind.

He felt eyes boring onto the back of his coat, where his model name was slapped over it like a plaque. An idiom went through his mind, his ears buzzing with white noises as he thought about deers on a highway, caught in taillights of a car. He pushed away the thoughts creeping into him, along with the dozens of red alerts piling up that he never wanted to read whatsoever.

Hugo turned towards Hank, frowning just slightly. But living with two androids made the human keen with the subtle changes. Thus he caught his gaze, how Hugo's lips pursed, and he shook his head as he let out a heavy sigh. A smile quirking by the edges of his lips.

He made a notion towards Connor.

" _Troublesome_ ," he said.

Connor had merely stuck out his tongue.

-

" _Phck_. Watch where you're heading, _Connor_!"  
At the name of his predecessor, Hugo blinked and turned around. The cup of black coffee sloshed in his hand dangerously.

**[ Mental note :**

**Lower the speed by 10% when holding drinks or food**

**...**

**Saved ]**

"The fuck are you doing? _Move_!"

Hugo scuttled hurriedly to the side. Making a way for the angry young man to walk towards the coffee machine.

"Fuckin' androids," he hissed as he punched in few buttons on the machine none too gently. A pop-up told Hugo that the man was making an espresso. Yet Hugo elected to ignore confronting the man to tell him that drinking four cups of espresso in a row was not a healthy habit to pick up.

Detective Gavin Reed. Born in 2002. Had a renowned hatred towards androids. An aggressive man with a penchance for violence. To put it plain, he--to quote Hank's choice of words; ' _sounds like bad news_ '.

Come to think of it, he was slightly reminded of the picture of a cat on _The Web_ when he once looked through Hank's era of ' _memes_ ' for fun. They called her ' _Grumpy Cat_ '. An adorable fluffy cat with a large frown upon her face. Looking back, Hugo couldn't help but to bring up his preconstruct program, and assigned the detective's face to align with the cat's.

They fit perfectly. Almost horrifyingly.

"What are you lookin' at?"  
Hugo looked up, stopping himself from tracing the scar running across the man's nose curiously, and found himself staring into a pair of dark eyes filled with... those dim _red stars_ that gleamed in his eyes. What were they? They were not mischevious and bright, like Connor's. Nor did they shone like diamonds with content, like Hank's.

Was it pure hatred? Of malice and contempt? He looked so furious. Almost like a hungry inferno, greedy for more woods to burn.

Whatever it was, it made Hugo shudder, though not visible. He felt his circuits fried, buzzing and whirring in a small anxiety. Was it fear? Anger towards the man? Hugo couldn't quite grasp it. And truthfully; it scared him.

"Fuck's wrong with androids. Starin' shitless like that," the man grumbled, crushing the new empty paper cup in his hand before tossing it into the bin nearby. Then he walked away, shoving Hugo on the shoulder in the process.

Once the detective left, Hugo placed his cup on the table. He let out a sigh, a shiver went throughout his being, as he clasped his hands on his face. His LED whirled and whirled red continuously. Yet, strangely, no red alerts popped up this time.

For a moment, what he witnessed was an abyss. A darkness that swallowed him. Then a series of clicks was heard, and Hugo found himself standing in nothingess. Listening to the white noises. The buzzing sounds made. His circuits whirring, his pump working, as his fan blades spun fast to cool him down from the high he head. The heat made it impossible for him to think clearly.

He was starting to regret his choices, just a little.


	5. one lump or two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hugo learns something from mortal kombat
> 
> also gavin is still an asshole

Hugo was a little bit thankful when Connor found him curled up inside Hank's old and broken washing machine--the reason why they had to use laundry services--in nothing but a large pink sweater, with face burrowed deep in Snooze's thick fur, hair clearly disheveled, LED ring swirling a striking yellow, and opted to comment nothing about it.

Untill Hank came in.

"Come on, Hugo. Talk to us."

" _N-no_ ," Hugo muttered, curling further into the washing machine.

"Kid, come on. We want help you, but we can't if you don't speak up. Not all of us are mind readers."

Hugo looked up. Pale blue eyes blinking in confusion as he tilted his head to the side.

"Con- Connor and I- I do-.. don't mind read."

Hank rolled his eyes.

"Well, private wireless connection is practically close to one."

"True." Hugo shrugged.

"So come on now, Hugo. Talk to me, atleast. Let me help you," Hank said, descending down to sit. He let out a hiss when his bare skin made contact with the cold granite floor.

Hugo blinked, watching as he stayed still. His hands curled around Snooze. The small space of the washing machine he was in gave him a strange comfort. The kind where he could pretend that nothing existed, and all that was real was just the tiny space he resided in. Nothing big chasing him endlessly, no expectations to weigh him down. Just him and his small bubble of world.

Like a goldfish. he thought. Finding the resemblance quite eerie.

"Hugo?"

"I don't li- like people.. Crowds an- and..," Hugo hid his face into Snooze's fur once more.

" _Bosses_. Big boss- bosses like- like-.."

"Fowler?" Hank supplied. Hugo nodded quickly.

"Yes. I do- don't like. Scar-.. scare- scary."

"Everyone finds their bosses scary, kid. It's alright; first days are the worst."

It's not. It wasn't supposed to be like so. Hugo was a functional android built for investigation purposes. He was made to integrate with humanity. Everything ran in his codings as his base programme. He was supposed to be better. He was-

There was it again. The flash of bleeping red. It was bright and flourescent, a warning, like a soft whisper that he--if he was to quote Hank--had ' _fucked up_ '.

"Hugo?"

" _Mhmm_?"

"Remember when you and Connor went together on _Mortal Kombat_?"

Hugo blinked. He didn't understand where Hank was going.

"Ye- yeah?"

"Remember how the big boss, the _sonovabitch_ mafia shitbag was really hard to defeat?"

Then he smiled. He understood then, where Hank was going with his talk.

"La- language, Hank."

He giggled at the look the old man sent towards him. His shoulders shook, and for a moment, a small smile formed on his lips.

"I ge- get it. Conti-.. continue, please."

"Okay. So it's hard to defeat him and all. But look now; in the end, you managed to defeat him, right?"

Hugo remembered it. A Friday night where Hank plugged on his vintage game controller called ' _Xbox_ ' and called the brothers together to play Mortal Kombat. He made one condition that they should not use any of their system runs. For a moment, it underwent easily enough.

Then they stuck. Somehow, they couldn't went against the enemy character. The restrain against their system runs also made it worse. Frustated and devastated, Connor had thrown a tantrum; by sitting at the couch with his arms crossed, refusing to move, all the while glaring at the Xbox machine. Hugo on the other hand, had simply sulked on the floor.

Hank laughed before he took the controller. That was when he taught them how to go through.

"The fur- further you go, th- the har- harder the levels will b- be."

Hank smiled.

"And?"

"S- so jus- just keep going."

"Go on."

And never give up.

 _Never give up_.

"And- and never giv- give up."

"That's _my boy_!" Hank beamed, ruffling Hugo's hair affectionately.

Hugo preened at the attention given. He, too, had a smile on his face as he leaned towards Hank's hand. His chest swelled, and he felt hope bloomed in his stomach like a wonderful peony. Snooze made a small woof of agreement. Hugo giggled.

Maybe, just maybe, he could make it through.

-

Or maybe _not_.

There was him again. Detective Gavin Reed. Why was he here? Why was he coming this way? Did he noticed? What-

"Reed."

"Anderson."

Hugo felt like a mouse. A tiny innocent mice entrapped in a feud between two giant cats. Either way he went; he would be eaten alive. Neither seemed like a fun idea.

His fingers shook behind him. Hugo blinked rapidly as he tried to soothe down his overheating processors.

"What do you want."

"Got that case you sent me in. Didn't thought you'll need me, Anderson."

"I wouldn't have if Fowler didn't bite my ass for it."

"So for once, the decorated officer was in dire of help? I am shocked."

Hank growled. Hugo simply wanted to curl up into a ball and went into stasis.

"Hank," Connor spoke up, tugging on Hank's sleeves slightly as a warning.

"Not now, Con."

" _Hank_."

"Listen to your plastic pet, _Hank_."

A fist would've flown into Detective Gavin Reed's face had Connor was not nimble enough to catch it in time.

Hugo's LED went striking red.

" _You fucking piece of shi-_ "

_Connor._

_I know, I'm working on it._

_Connor._

_What is it-_

_Hank's stress level is eighty-eight percent._

_....What about Gavin?_

_Pardon?_

_Detective Gavin Reed. His stress levels?_

_Uhh.. Fourty-two. Why did you ask?_

_Hugo._

_.....I don't like that tone._

_Can you do me a favor?_

He must've went insane. Or something is his codes were bugged. There was no way he should've agreed to it, but instead, he did.

_Yes._

He regretted it already.

_Can you drive Gavin away?_

_You want me to 'push his buttons'?_

_Can you?_

_......._

_Hugo?_

_I'm going to die early._

"- _fucking defective lieutenant_!"

"You son of a _motherfucking_ -"

" _Detective Reed_ ," Hugo started, standing tall and proud as he stepped between him and Hank.

"Please do leave Lieutenant Anderson to his own matters. I don't believe ' _petty quarreling_ ' will make a good look on your reports. You wished to be promoted, no?"

Hugo had never seen anyone turned so red ever before. He always thought it was only possible in movies.

" _What the fuck_ -"

"Playing tough and rough doesn't cut you, Detective. No matter how brash you might be, you still wouldn't cover up your insecurities and self-doubts."

Detective Gavin Reed had stilled. His knuckles went pale, his veins appeared by his forehead, and he was starting to look a little purple. His nose twitched. His muscles taut, ready to pull back like a string before launching out a punch. Hugo braced his frame to take it, inwardly.

But then he turned on his heels and stomped off. Shooting a middle finger towards Hank as he yelled out, "This isn't over, Anderson!"

"Fuck you too, Reed!" Hank shouted back.

Meanwhile, Connor had turned to look at his successor in concern. He was shaking and his LED kept swirling dangerously from blue to red.

_Hugo?_

When he spoke up, Hugo's voice was a bare whisper, cracked at the edges, as if he was about to cry.

"Ha- Hank? Can I.. Can I take- take a _day off_?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay first off, i just want to say sorry that this one is like shorter than the usual ones. i'm trying i swear. i promise the next few will be longer.
> 
> also just a p.s;  
> hugo can talk but he have stuttering and lisp problems. it's beacuse his remaining firewall and codings are still kinda against him talking by his own will. but he /can/ talk fluently IF he is using his 'investigating' mode a.k.a that mode where he exploits people's weaknesses, because by then his program will run by 'interrogation mode' therefore, it doesn't pass as a 'free will' talking by his firewall.
> 
> k that's all, enjoy!


	6. nightingale sweet little bird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hugo's first words are a song
> 
> ft. gavin reed is an asshole and hugo is just an awakward mess ok

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gUESS WHOS NOT DEAD hi hello it me
> 
> so uuuuuuuuu i can explain.
> 
> basically; life. mess. mental problems. im sorting them out rn im ok
> 
> so now that i can get my shit settled; im gonna set out a schedule. this fic is going to be updated minimum once a month. keyword on the minimum. bear with me please; im trying my best and im so sorry for abandoning this for like 4 months
> 
> without further ado; have some hugo!!!

He was not supposed to speak. He was not supposed to speak. He was _not supposed to_ -

The grip around Snooze's neck tightened. The white furred canine whimpered with worry, brushing the tip of her nose against Hugo's forehead. The android's face buried deep at the crook of her back.

There was a thin line between Hugo and Connor; that the latter, the predecessor, was made to integrate with other humans. All RK800 models were built to negotiate, to be swift in dire situations and to be flawed. Like humans. Because all RK800s were made for humanity.

A fine line went across them both. An invisible wall made of blaring red lights. Hugo, an RK900 model, was made to go _against_ humanity. To be strong, passive, and perfect. They were not made to be flawed in dire stakes of life and death. They were made to, created to; accomplish their missions at what ever's the costs.

Hugo's model was not supposed to be able to speak.

Sure, Connor had given him an audio box when his predecessor came for him. But there was no such thing within his base programming that enabled him to use it, to be able to speak. It choked him to try it, like lungs burning in an inferno, with lights scarlet in his vision as they prodded like needles against his throat.

When they had installed him a series of coding from Connor's model to enable him to speak, it proved to be far inferior against his. And again, his lungs burned.

They tried again. And again and again. Like an endless cycle of drowning in a sea of tears. Hugo hated it. The feeling of being in pain. To feel as if he had swallowed a porcelain tea set and the shards lodged within his mouth. To be vulnerable, as he was not made for it.

Perhaps that was what made it so much more painful.

He installed a pack of sign languages. _That_ , he could incorporate to his system. It went for weeks, months, holding conversations with hand gestures and movements. And as gradually he did, Hugo learned the art of it.

He moved his hands like water, sometimes lightning fast but ever so slow enough for Hank to read. There was something comforting, he found, in a gesture where it meant something instead of nothing. Where what he did was necessary, and the movements, the little bits he played out, was not just something he knew out of a package. But as a form he learned.

That was the first time he realized how truly deviant he was. And also the first time, a bright red screen filled his eyes like a menacing wall.

Hugo stopped trying to speak. Yet he never stopped learning sign languages.

It was somewhere mid spring. He remembered he was wearing a matching yellow sweater with Connor. They were sitting on the bed, Hank was out and about with Sumo, with bright flowers entertwined in their hairs like crowns; a gift from their recent visit to Alice--one of his predecessor's many friends.

Their hands connected, artificial skins melting away as they integrated. Hugo's thirium pump loud in his own ears like drums he often heard coming from Hank's headphones. His head filled with so many red alarms that he pushed aside, leaning his head against Connor's shoulder. He imagined a clear sky and a bed of white roses. He imagined that, for once, he was breathing. _Alive_.

When Hank returned, the two androids saw him cried.

Hugo was singing.

Many words to be expected to escape his lips once he earned his voice--which was, of course, an exact copy of Connor's that was managed to be planted in his codings, as part of a loophole in his emergency interrogation system--like, something along the lines of " _Hello_ " or " _My name is Hugo_ ". But not, never, a _song_.

The lyrics were not his, as he sung a song about summers and springs. Mid autumns full of breeze, with stars alighting the empty sky. A sea of diamonds, tears of a lover, the apple of the eye. Sweaters and blue jeans. Words that echoed. A song about life and the wonders of it. Of the prairies and walls covered in vines with blooming lavenders and daisies.

His lungs ached when he sung about a space full of void and endless seas stretching beyond the horizon. His chest burned and he felt as clouds covered his eyes. All he had seen was red. And a pleading voice, somewhere in the back of his mind, that sounded oddly just like him, begging for him to stop.

He did. It took days to recover his system manuals into their normal readings.

Hugo didn't want to speak.

But he did like talking to Connor and Hank. Despite all the stutters and red alarms he would earn, he'd take it. Just to see them smile and laugh, with him too.

Hugo didn't want to speak.

But he did like singing. To create a harmonious set of melodies and of beautiful iridescent words.

Hugo didn't want to speak.

But he would. For his family.

The memory of the flabbergasted and absolute look of fury etched deep into his articial mind. As if it was burned into his disk permanently. A face of raggard hair and scars. Hugo whined miserably onto Snooze's fur.

 _Gavin Reed_. Of all the people he could pick to stand up to, it _had_ to be the detective. Hugo didn't even know him well, despite all the rants from Hank to know good enough that he was bad news. But he stood against, and _spoke_ , at Detective Gavin Reed of all people he could've spoken to first.

Not that it mattered for one particular grumpy detective, but Hugo knew once the man complained at Captain Fowler that he was able to speak, questions would be thrown. And even then, Connor couldn't assist him. And he would have to speak, explain himself why he lied, and-

 _Why did he done that?_ Why did he ever-

It felt as if pushing against a tall cliff. Where pain strung his artificial corded muscles as he kept pushing and pushing, trying to do something, even as the rocks would not even bow down to the wind's vicious howls.

If he did not speak, Hank could've got hurt.

But if he spoke, _he_ would get hurt.

Choices, choices. Oh, the peak of the deviancy, yet one he feared the most.

What ever would happen had he pick the wrong one? He knew full well of reality. There was no such thing as an undo button. Who was to blame; Time perhaps? for being too quick, too selfish to give him a moment to catch his thoughts?

" _What did I do wrong_?"  
Snooze nuzzled against his chest as he sung.

" _Tell me what did I do wrong_?"

-

"Oi, _tincan_."  
Oh, sweet salads and ballads.

Hugo looked down. Not a single glance was spared towards the man standing before him with his arms crossed, case files piled on his desk, as a huff escaped the human's lips.

What did Hank say in this kind of situation again? Oh, yes; _sweet Mother of Baby Jesus_ have mercy on him.

"You fuckin' hear me or wha'?"

Chances are; 89% that Hugo is going to get punched straight in the face if he looked up towards Detective Gavin Reed. Highest causability would be, simply, a psychological irritation as the man seemed to be clear upon his fury and would absolutely vent his rage at impulsive actions. So he kept his eyes down, staring intently at his shoes that he had polished twice that day out of anxiety. Though, he'd never admit so to anyone.

" _Jesus fucking Christ_ -" the man groaned, throwing his hands into the air that made Hugo almost-- _almost_ \--flinch.

"-fucking Fowler must've been right off his nuts. 'Workin' on with some _robocop_ ', yeah, kiss my ass."

Hugo kept himself still. A cold mask of facade that of his face as he had switched off all triggers that connected to his face muscles. Though within his mind, he was screaming and shrieking like a madman, louder than the red alarms, as he struggled to keep himself alive. Everything felt heavier, as the nonexistent pit in his stomach grew along with the flowers in his lungs.

The tip of his mind was reaching close to connect with Connor, to earn himself a balance point and a safehouse for him to cry to. But then he stopped.

He blinked. Twice, and then rose his head slowly to face the human.

It was illogical, truly; the scar that ran across his nose came from an accident, not from commiting murders that Hugo didn't even understood where the thought came from--very illogical, really--here was absolutely no reason to be scared of Detective Gavin Reed. The man could hardly overcome him if he wanted to.

 _But_ ,

On Hugo's defense; he still looked scary.

"Forgive me, I was running a few debriefs and was not able to sense your presence; _Good afternoon_ , Detective Reed. May I help you?"

Detective Gavin Reed stared at him. With the kind of eyes that were unkind; scrutinizing every move he took. The little flaw he made and all the faux breaths he'd take. Hugo blinked in false calm demeanour. He was grateful that due to the particularly tall desk, Detective Gavin Reed was unable to see his hands twitching underneath.

"' _Debrief_ '. So you know about the case we're in."

Hugo knew nothing about how a Police Depatment works untill three days ago where he had finally installed his programmed work patch. And even then, he was still quite at lost about his programmed upbringing. Too many laws and lawsuits; too many things that could be differentiated as a proper mandatory mode.

But Detective Reed didn't need to know that.

"I was not aware. This was.. a different debrief. Can you please tell me about this case you've spoke of?"

" _Highest piece of prototype with an A.I that can't run itself_." The human threw his hands to the air once more. Nevermind that if he even realized the way Hugo looked down as his LED turned to bright yellow just as quickly as it switched back to blue.

"Wonderful. So fuckin' wonderful."

"Shall I look into it myself, Detective, or would you like me to fetch you a supervisor for your unprofessionality?"

He iddly heard a stiffled laugh somewhere behind him as Detective Gavin Reed turned to face him with a mortified look. Hugo could hear the hitch upon the human's heartbeat, as the arterial veins appeared on his forehead that slowly molded into the color red. Just like the alarms that stood in his mind once more. His eyes burnt like the dying embers of raging flames.

He thought he saw the human's nose twitched. Hugo restricted himself to the backseat within his cloud server, compiling various back up datas as he braced himself for the fistful of knuckles to hit his frame and tear him apart like an unyielded hurricane and mass of storms. His face remained a passive imprint; though his mind ran rampant out of fear and anger at his own stupidity.

The first choice he made upon social life and he opted to insult. Truly, Hank had rubbed off on him in many ways than one.

" _Fuck me_ ," Detective Gavin Reed huffed, slamming a tablet upon the table none too gently.

"Listen here you piece of shit; you either shut your jaw and check the case out now or-"

"- _you'll punch the living out of me and tear me apart_?"

Detective Gavin Reed straightened his back and crossed his arms. Much to Hugo's bewilderment; a ghost of smirk appeared at the corners of his lips. And suddenly, those embers in his eyes were gone and instead, exchanged for technicolor lights that came from the neon impasse lights above their heads.

"I see you're not that broken at all. Get your shit together tin can."

"I might need to remind you the same, Detective."

And there was it. The pain in his throat once more. Hugo held his mind together as he felt the sharp sting flaring from the base of his thirium, up to his lungs, and then the tip of his highly sensitive tongue. Like he had swallow a thousand needles and breathed in acid smokes that melted his frames and the wires that kept him from breaking apart.

"You lil' _fucker_ -"

"Oh, so we're back with insulting now?"

Another stiffled laugh.

So perhaps getting pinned down by a single look was bad. But, truly, however was he supposed to know? There was nothing written on any instructions of human socializing on how to handle what he should do when a work-forced-to-be-partner had you merely two inches apart, and was passive-agressively clutching upon your shirt as they looked absolutely like they can and most definitely will murder you in broad daylight.

"Listen here, shitface. I'm not gonna sugarcoat shit for you, but neither of us liked eachother. But Fowler will bite our asses for it, so either you get your shit together and fuck off, or you can kiss your ass goodbye to the department."

"You assumed I don't _like_ you?" Hugo said--though not without a subtle strain to his voice--a frown formed upon his face.

The human gave him a face that resembled Hank's ' _Done-With-Your-Shit_ ' look when ever Connor did his analysing routine.

"Fucking kids; _hate_. I meant hate. You happy, now? Specifics are great and all, but that's not the goddamn point now, isn't it?" He then tsked and made a motion to shove Hugo's head forward.

" _Fucking androids_ , I'm telling you," he muttered, then in one fell motion he swept the tablet off from the table and stomped off.

Hugo decided to ignore the _Titanic Flute_ soundtrack his predecessor suddenly played in their shared link.


	7. tête-à-tête, love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sexual tension????
> 
> sexual tension.
> 
> _everywhere._

_Charming._

_Stop laughing._ He heard his predecessor burst into a fit of giggles behind him.

_Jerk._

_That's cute. And hey, he didn't kill you; that's a success._

_I think he's planning a slow murder._

_I'm not surprised._

_Ohmygod what if he actually is going to stab me in my sleep._

_He doesn't know where our house is._

_Hacking._

_Doubt it. He's not that smart with computers._

_Fowler? Case files? I don't know._

_Hugo, he doesn't even know where you sleep._

_I sleep in the bathtub. In the bathroom._

_See? For all we know, he'd come to my room and thought I'm you and stabs me instead._

_I don't want you to die either._

_You can avenge me._

_This is not like the Assassin's Creed, Connor. I can't be Ezio. I don't have the 'pretty face'._

_Hank told me I'm pretty once._

Hugo blinked in surprise.

_He did?_

_Yes. We have the same face; that means you're pretty too._

Hugo turned his head slowly to his back. Whereas he could see his predecessor, Connor, with Hank discussing about their own recent case. The computer screen infront of them lit up stark bright as Connor's LED ring swirled from blue to yellow and back again. Hardly anyone would've known the other RK model had been multitasking to speak with Hugo through their shared link.

Hank had that look on his face. The one where his eyes gleamed knowingly, as he looked at Hugo's predecessor with barely concealed admiration. If he had been the moon, Connor would've been his sun. Near insepparable. Two of the best officers the precinct could ever ask for.

And they were _in love_. My, Hugo knew it the first glimpse he caught upon their shared look. They were so madly deeply in love that it had been ridiculous to watch them saunter to each other as if it was a normal Tuesday. Even Sumo and Snooze agreed that it was ridiculous of how the both of them are very keen detectives with impeccable eyes for details; yet how so oblivious towards the budding romance between them.

And for God's sake; Connor, how could he become such a dense wood? Hank _literally_ called him pretty.

_If I have to watch the two of you having another tête-à-tête again, I will see to it myself to get partnered with Detective Gavin Reed permanently._

_I didn't know you swing that way, Hugo._

_I swing both ways._ He paused before adding,  
 _Violently. With a knife._

_See? There, now you can avenge me._

_But what if I don't want to._

_Well that's too bad._

_Actually, it'd be cool if we start a riot club._

_Oh, like Bonnie and Clyde?_

Hugo took a moment to do a quick search of the two names. Historical robbers. Gang leaders. Well known for their unbridled chaotic mess.

~~They sound so cool.~~

**[ Save Notes : Bonnie &Clyde ]**

_Yes. Like Bonnie and Clyde._

_Nice. Connor replied, seemingly pleased._

-

"So how does your system even work? You see something and then pull up the red strings or what?"

Hugo tried not to show the shock he felt when the detective attempted to converse civically with him. Though, he might had not been as subtle with it as he had knocked off a mug of pens on his table accidentally.

No matter; Detective Gavin Reed seemed indifferent of the sudden disorder that occured.

Hugo surpressed the urge to tremble--in an array of emotions he could not convey; excitement, nervousness, _fear_ \--as he opened his mouth to answer. He stopped short, however, when a sudden sting of pain shot up from the back of his throat.

He tore his eyes away from the detective as a series of red alerts flooded his vision along with alarms. Hugo blinked, hoping the other didn't catch the way his LED had likely swiveled from yellow to striking red as he concealed it by looking to the opposite direction.

Not now. Not now, _please-_

A sudden ringtone alert rang up and the detective nearly fell off his seat in surprise. Gavin Reed slid out his phone, unlocked it with a slight grumble before he froze. His eyes round with shock.

On his screen was a page of the RK900 model, pulled up by Hugo from CyberLife's official private server logged in under his authority. The article section that he had specifically picked out for the detective had a bold title on it that read, ' _Behind the State of The Art Artificial Intelligence._ '

"No talking? Cat got your tongue?" Detective Gavin Reed scoffed, though his eyes were glued onto his phone screen as he seemed intent upon scrolling down the article to read.

Another alert rang out. This time a text message. Gavin Reed opened his inbox to find a sentence written, with no clear address but a single number ' _9_ '.

' _My model is a prototype and I am apparently a unique one. Thus, it's hard for me to have all the spareparts I required and so happens my voicebox broke yesterday._ '

Hugo had only wished he had his camera mode on when he saw the look that appeared upon the detective's face once he realized who sent it.

"I'll have you know--incase you're an idiot--that hacking without consent is a federal offense."

' _It's not illegal if it's helping._ '

"Oh, yeah? Tell that to The Court."

' _Rules and laws are made to assist. If to assist we are needed to break rules, wouldn't justifying the rules meant we are fogetting the point of why we made rules in the first place?_ '

"Holy shit," Detective Gavin Reed whispered softly.

"I need to use that one when I get caught speeding again."

' _Please don't. I would like to have you very much alive and intact_.'

"I thought you hate me."

' _Please stop assuming I hate you. I really don't, detective. I hold no grudges; and even if I do, I will not take it out on the cases we will have to work on. That will be unprofessional_.'

"You're calling me unprofessional?"

' _No. Just that you're rather stuck up_.'  
And an arse. Also terrifying. But Hugo was not going to say that aloud.

" _Gee_ ," Detective Gavin Reed muttered, rolling his eyes as he slumped further into his chair.

"Thanks." His voice dry with sarcasm. It felt almost as if Hugo had been facing an angry hissing venomous snake; he had to make and calculate his choices--his words--carefully, delicately, in order to avoid the fangs burrowing into his system and tore him apart.

But there was a part of him, a part of him that--horrifyingly--enjoyed it. He enjoyed stepping on the rattlesnake's tail, dancing around the fire in hopes that he did not catch the flames. It felt.. thrilling. A sense of freedom caught in his throat, and Hugo wanted to throw his head back and cry out a silent laugh untill his throat aches and bleeds.

Another text came in. He watched as the detective's hand curled into a fist, knuckles turned white, as Gavin Reed read the words written across the screen of his phone.

' _You're welcome_.'


End file.
